Insanity
by phoenix.tycho
Summary: He is addicted, but she is delusional; and somehow all this insanity will blossom into love. [a modern Hiccstrid fic in three parts]
1. Addicted

**a/n: a three-part modern Hiccstrid fic. Part one in Hiccup's POV, part two in Astrid's POV, part three in both. I'm back to writing fanfics after a ten year fan fic writing hiatus, so any reviews/feedback would be very helpful and encouraging. **

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**Addicted**

It's amazing the things you learn at one in the morning.

For instance, every street light in Berk flashes yellow. There are no red lights, no green lights, and the usual twenty minute trip would take you ten. I can hear the soft whistling of the wind and the leaves tumbling across the deserted streets. Train whistles are louder… I feel a 'if a tree falls in the forest' question coming on.

My handwriting is different at one a.m. It's more flowing, slanting. Girly, really. I write faster at night and as I sit here writing this, I wonder why I'm finding this out. I should be asleep at one a.m.

My room feels different, too. Almost ghost-like. It's doused in a strange mixture of falling moonlight and the bright light of the small lamp on the desk in front of me. I can feel the curling breeze from the open window, the curtains fluttering every so often. I can hear the fabric rustling softly with each passing breeze. My cat, Toothless, snores softly from where he is curled up my bed.

My fingertips feel rounder at one a.m. I'm sure there is a long winded explanation for this. Touching anything feels different with dulled, slower senses; yet, part of me almost feels cat-like like in my nocturnal state. If you wander the town at one a.m., no one will notice you. Everyone is asleep.

Her window looks different at one a.m. It's been left open to invite the cool air into the room. The drapes on the window are sheer and look like something from a fairy tale and their soft movement in the early morning's breeze stuns me to a near hypnotized state. The rosebushes under the window are inviting but their thorns stand as a warning to keep out. I hear her soft breathing from inside the room. No one notices me standing there, but I'm no braver at one a.m., and startling her at such an hour would not be sane or romantic.

The sounds in the woods behind the town are different. It's like a whole other life at night. The birds are silent, for once, and the rustlings sound more acute. More placed. The grass looks different, if you can see it at all, and the cover of the trees blend together. It's easier to walk through the woods at one a.m.

One a.m. must be a time of magic, as ridiculous as that sounds. An hour that is truly unknown. An hour of difference in the monotonous world. It feels like I am the only soul alive or awake, conscious of the world around me. The sounds and movements, sightless really, all belong to me.

My own voice is louder; my breathing and sighing and even _blinking_is audible and you'd swear every being in the world would be awake at my subtle, quiet command from such noise.

I should be asleep at one a.m.

What could possibly keep me awake? _Her._

Oh Thor, the girl is beating down the door to my sanity. I should be dreaming peacefully, but instead it is one a.m. and I am awake and shaking in my own frustration and anxiety that is riddling my body with sleeplessness. Such a trivial matter, really, but I have lost all sanity and my insomnia will not rest until this simple matter of my life is solved. The only thing that could possibly stand in the way of my peaceful slumber is _her_. That stubborn, sarcastic, strong, warm-hearted, proud, amazing, beautiful, frustrating girl who keeps me up at all hours pacing, just wondering what to do about her. Could you imagine?

I haven't slept all week. Two weeks? God, when was the last time I slept? I've been living on coffee. I think I'm a tad addicted. It's been a slow spiral. I started with one cup and now I'm at…five? Yeah, it's not working.

I'm addicted, but coffee isn't my only drug. I'm addicted to the sound of her voice, her laugh, her _smell_. I'm addicted to her hair—it's intoxicating, really, when she teases me, flicking her braid over her shoulder and sending a collision of smells into my senses. I'm addicted to her lips, so soft and small and perfect. I've lost it, I'm aware, but to go a day without seeing her? I'll die a slow painful death.

This should be illegal. The effect she has on me? They could bottle it and sell it to our enemies. It's worse at one a.m. I was literally outside her window before I talked myself out of sure humiliation and a hard punch in the chest from Astrid.

I'm counting down the hours to my demise; I know I won't make it to the breakfast table tomorrow morning before I collapse and convulse or something equally dramatic, but it's _one a.m._ and I know she's asleep and I just want to _be there_. And not in the creepy stalker way, but the just-hearing-you-breathe-is-enough-to-find-fulfillment-in-life kind of way. Which sort of sounds stalker-y but it's not. Like having her asleep on my shoulder just once was like _heroine_ straight to my bloodstream.

This is insane and I cannot take it anymore. I'll die. I swear I'll die. She has to have some clue, some hint, to what she does to me. Something must allude her to the fact that I'll never sleep again if something isn't done because I am slowly but surely losing my mind to her a little bit more every night. She makes a guy _want_ to be a drug addict. I'll swear off coffee, I'll swear off energy drinks, I'll do whatever she wants. No matter the degree of humiliation or pain or how much it costs. I'll _do it_ just make it stop. If she'll just make it—

"Hiccup? Hiccup, wake up".

Oh God, that's her voice. It finally happened. I've snapped and I'm hallucinating.

"Up, sleepy head!"

Her laugh rings in my head like bells in the breeze.

"How did you get in here?" I mumble, my eyes still closed.

"Your dad let me up," comes her reply.

I open my eyes but immediately shut them as the bright morning light blinds my vision.

"Did you seriously fall asleep writing in your notebook?" Astrid asks and leans over to pick up the notebook under my hand, "What does this say? June second, one a.m…One a.m? Hiccup!"

Sitting up, I snatch the notebook from her grasp, elbows quivering as our fingers brush.

"I couldn't sleep," I offer, "Too much coffee".

My eyes focus enough to finally see her. Honey blonde hair, pulled back in a loose braid behind her head, round face, pale skin, bright blue eyes. Apparently, this is not a hallucination; or maybe it is just a very good one.

"He didn't stop muttering until around three" Stoick comments as he passes through the hallway on his way downstairs, heavy boots stomping against the hardwood floors, "That's probably when he passed out".

"Are you ok?" Astrid's voice is suddenly laced with concern, "You look terrible. You shouldn't stay up so late."

She is so close. She smells like wildflowers and laundry detergent and whatever perfumed shampoo she uses to make her hair shine and it's like inhaling _crack_ only better because I'm fully aware of what's going on. So maybe it's worse.

"I'm _terrible_. I'm horrible," I groan, "You could end my suffering now, you know."

She almost laughs again, but that would probably kill me so I'm relieved when she doesn't. Instead, she just sighs and gently takes the notebook from my hands to set it on the desk. Then she places her hands on my forearm and drags me up to my feet. The sensation of her skin on mine sends my heart into overdrive. Thump, thump, thump. She leads me to my bed just as Toothless jumps onto it with a soft, concerned meow.

"Yeah, yeah…get some sleep, Hiccup," she says, "And no more coffee for you."

I manage to groan her name and cling to her arm as she gets up to leave.

"Hiccup, please, you need to get some sleep. This is ridiculous."

"Please?" I practically whine.

"Hiccup. No coffee. Ever again." She tugs the blankets loose, forcing me to lay down with one arm while she pulls the blankets over me with the other and I absolutely melt like hot wax and do _whatever_ she wants. And then she does it; she leans down and kisses my forehead and I know I'm completely screwed.

I'm hopelessly addicted. And yes, I've gotten my fix. I can finally sleep with some peace, but I swear to all that is holy when I wake up it will be one a.m. all over again. Had she any sympathy, she would kill me now.

In my state of absolute haze and mental absence, my unconscious thoughts become to unconscious words and I mutter the stupidest thing I have quite possibly ever spoken in the form of an 'I love you' to her as she stands up. Before I can hate myself or throw myself from the window, Toothless curls up against my side with a purr and my mind has started to fall deeper into the realm of sleep; a place that we have not visited in a very. Long. Time.

I would trade anything in the world to keep her up until one a.m. for just one night. Then she would _finally_ see what her very presence does to me. And maybe she would understand that I could never love another woman as intensely as I love her.


	2. Delusional

**a/n: it's time to see Astrid's point of view, especially after Hiccup's accidental sleep-deprived confession in the first chapter. enjoy! reviews are extra appreciated, since i'm back to writing fanfics after a ten year hiatus. any feedback is wonderful!**

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**Delusional**

I counted the revolutions of my ceiling fan. The seconds between every minute for two hours staring at my alarm clock. I played the lo-fi CD he burned for me to listen to when I had that bout of insomnia a few summers ago. _That_ was a splendid idea.

He was delusional. He was sleep deprived and he worked too much. There had to be some explanation for this.

The fan clicks every four hundred and seventy-one revolutions.

He didn't know what he was saying, he didn't mean to say it, he doesn't feel that way about me, and I will absolutely _not_ spend another second awake at goddamn two in the morning wondering and obsessing and — ugh, I need to go see him. Now. I need to get out of the house and get across town and sneak into his house and wake him up and just fucking ask him. And then punch him in the chest for making me stress over this so much.

I toss my blankets aside, sitting up in bed and moving swiftly to the door.

But what am I doing? It's two in the morning!

I groan and drag myself back to bed. There is no way he'd be awake after yesterday's incident. He'd be dead asleep. Like I _should_ be at two in the morning.

He's so frustrating. And confusing. Ugh, he shouldn't be allowed to do this to me. He couldn't have meant what he said, right? He was probably just sleep deprived or thanking me for helping him back into bed and… what am I saying? This is not any different than thanking a friend. Hiccup is just a friend…

Oh, who am I kidding? It's two in the morning, and I can't even lie to myself at such an ungodly hour.

Now I understand why he took up coffee. I'd kill for something to keep me awake right now, because I'm stuck in that sort of hypnagogic almost-asleep-but-not-sleeping state and I can't seem to shake it. It's starting to make me sappy and wishing I had stayed in his room all day with him, just wasting the day snoozing and talking and petting Toothless while he purrs. Sure, Hiccup looked rather out of it and he sounded terrible but as soon as he was back to sleep he looked so _peaceful_ and I wanted to share that with him.

There is absolutely _no way_ he could be in love with me. Right?

I'm not even in love with him.

Sure I love him, but! But!

I love all our friends! Ruffnut, Gobber, even Snotlout and Tuffnut, too, right?

Well, sure. Hiccup's smile gives me butterflies sometimes and his bright green eyes have a tendency to make my knees convert to jello and one _glance _from them sent me straight into that melty feeling that could calm even my worst nerves ... but I'm not in love with him.

Love and _in love_ are very different!

..Ok so I am a teeny bit _in love_ with his hands and how they feel when he holds onto my hand sometimes when we walk together. And maybe just a little _in_ love with how handsome and intelligent and witty and clever and sarcastic he is. But I am definitely not in love with him.

Oh, why does that taste like such a lie on my tongue when I try saying it out loud? I can't love my best friend! I can't ruin such an amazing thing by admitting...—er, _having_ such feelings about someone I am so close to. What would I do without him?

I am a tiny, tiny bit addicted to him, but not to such an extreme that it is affecting me.

It _isn't_ affecting me. Really. I've had bouts of insomnia before all this, too. And Hiccup had—oh.

…

Well there were other times, too.

Even now when I'm closing my eyes and counting my purposely slow breaths, trying to make myself _finally_ fall asleep, I can see his face in my mind's eye. I see him smiling and winking and drawing in his notebook and petting Toothless and …ugh. I groan with annoyance and open my eyes again. I can't sleep because I'll dream of him. I can't stay awake because I'll think about him.

Somebody just _drug _me and get it over with.

There must be some wine in the kitchen. Actually, I need something a little stronger. Maybe I could down the rest of my parent's bottle of vodka and spend the night puking. That would get my mind off of him for at least a few hours, right?

Alright, I am just a little _in_ love with him. But only just a little tiny bit. And he still didn't mean it when he told me he loved me.

... But what if he did?

What if by some strange plot twist my Hic— woah, woah, woah.

Stop right there.

He was not _my_ anything. My friend. My best friend, even. But that was it. I don't need to love him, I am just fine without that sort of relationship with him. And even if he did love me, I have seen how he handles himself. He is a walking disaster. He is a liability. It would only cause her grief trying to keep him well and on his feet and fed and out of danger and _not _up until all hours of the morning muttering to himself and writing in his journal about _God knows what_ only to say things he probably didn't mean in the morning and confuse the hell out of me.

It was two (pushing three) in the morning and I had not been able to concentrate on anything else but three small words said by the one person who could say them and poison my mind into betraying me and believing him.

Maybe some tea. Yeah. Tea would make me feel better. Calm me down. Help me sleep. I padded quietly to the kitchen to start some water on the stove. He made me tea once when I was sick and couldn't get out of bed. I remember I whined and yelled at him to leave before he caught whatever I had and died with me. He brought it to me anyways with that stupid little smile of his and sat on the edge of the bed while I drank it.

Best damn tea ever.

I shut off the water on the stove and moved to the living room. I can't make tea at two in the morning! What am I thinking? I'd burn the house down. Or continue on a tangent about him again.

Oh, this is such a mess.

I pace the dimly lit living room with my hands clasped behind my back. I need to sleep because I need to be able to get up so I can see him tomorrow so I can stop thinking about him. He will probably be back to normal and most definitely not be in love with me.

Except…

I am sort-of, kind-of, _maybe_ in total utter love with him.

Only not. Because I couldn't be. Impossible.

Ugh! He was so frustrating and irritating! Does he even know the hell he is subjecting me too?

I crash on the couch with a muffled grunt. Couldn't possibly… He was… delusional and out of his mind and … didn't mean it! _Couldn't_ mean it.

Tomorrow this will be over. But it was two...three… four a.m.? God, what time was it? Where was the clock? How long has he kept me awake without even knowing? I couldn't even die to escape this because I would be too far away from him to even consider eternal rest.

That's it. The second I see him in the morning, I am going to hit him. Punch him right in the chest. He has absolutely no right to make me fall in love with him. Who does he think he is? Some sort guy who can go from scrawny nerdy kid to some sort of tall handsome prince charming and then sweep me off my feet? He isn't …_that_ charming anyways. He has no right!

He is _so_ dead.

He is so confusing and infuriating and oh G_od _I _am_ in love with him after all.


	3. Love

**a/n: the third and final part, enjoy :)**

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**He breaks at three a.m.**

She loses it at three a.m.

**There is no way he can exist another moment. Not one more temporary fix can hold him over. He is addicted.**

There is no way she can continue living; no way she can see past her self-inflicted mind games. She is going insane.

**He figures from his father's snores echoing down the hallway that the coast is clear. He fights to free himself from the sheet tangled around his boxer-clad legs, suffocating and drenched in sweat. This has to be the most miserable night of his life. **_**What was he thinking?**_** Even if she loves him back, he shouldn't have said it like that! He has obviously created something between them that he shouldn't have, some sort of distress in her life and she is—**

She is furious. She can't sleep. Her eyes are trained on her ceiling fan. Her insomnia is in full swing now and she swears she'll have her revenge on him. Hiccup deserves every coffee-induced mental breakdown in history for what he is doing to her. Either that or she will just punch him in the face. She can't just lie here in the dark, helpless and sleep-deprived, for another second. Three a.m.? Oh, please. It's practically not worth going to sleep at all at this point. She can only hope that he is—

**He is m****iserable. He hasn't slept since the day he told her. He just wants to sleep. Toothless blinks at him silently in the darkness.**

**He has to see her. He doesn't need a fix, he needs a permanent solution. She is the only solution there is**; **she is the cure.**

Her eyes burn from lack of sleep. Her limbs are heavy and her body protests, loudly, the sleepless state she is in. She has to do something. She needs to end the lunacy. He is the only solution there is; he is the cure.

**He's had entirely enough. Throwing back the sheet, he moves to his wardrobe and grabs a random pair of sweatpants from his clothes. He throws them on over his boxers in a hurry, stumbling about the room to pull them on. He quickly throws on a shirt and steps into his ratty sneakers before slipping out of his bedroom.**

**This is almost as insane as his one a.m. stalking of her window. This is twice as crazy and half as planned out and if she wasn't pissed at him before, this was enough to end his pathetic existence. Put him out of his misery.**

**It's a win-win from his perspective.**

She pulls a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts she wore to bed, and holding her breath, pads silently to her bedroom door and sneaks down the hallway. This was it. This was her one chance to prove she wasn't crazy and end the insanity.

She could have crawled out the bedroom window, but she fears she might stumble and the fall would knock some sense into her and she'd change her mind at the last moment. She couldn't afford that now; it was much too late. She let herself out the door and, barefooted, she realized as her bare feet hit the wet grass, made a dash for Hiccup's house.

This is a bad idea waiting to happen.

**Oh, this is a bad idea waiting to happen.**

**He let himself out of the house, making sure the door isn't locked from the inside in case he makes it back alive and needs to get in before his dad wakes up. The early morning breeze feels wonderfully refreshing on his face and he solemnly swears he'll never have to feel the summer breeze while coming down from a caffeine buzz ever again.**

**Nasty stuff, really.**

**This is insanity. This is madness. Of course, he'll never admit that this is clearly all her fault.**

This is clearly all his fault.

That's what she decides as she stares overhead at the blinking yellow traffic lights. She's never seen those lights blink yellow in all the years she's lived in Berk. She should never have learned they were only yellow in the early mornings. These sort of things are fabled and joked about with normal sane people who are asleep at three a.m.

**Why isn't he asleep? He must be crazy, because now he can see her, too. In the middle of the night – well, morning now. He is standing on the crosswalk in the middle of town but he can see her standing there under the traffic light, looking up with that perfect little scowl on her face looking utterly adorable in her little pajama shorts and hoodie.**

**He's totally lost it. He rubs his tired eyes. He knows she is nowhere near here; in fact, she is probably curled up in bed like he should be. But he swears he can see her under the blinking yellow traffic light. His mind is gone — lost to sleep deprivation and too many cups coffee.**

**Yes, he knew he swore them it but the stuff is pumping in his very veins by now and it's like turning down oxygen. He just can't do it.**

She looks down the street and — oh wow, she must really be crazy because she swears from the shadows cast by the moonlight and the streetlamps that he is standing there on the on the opposite sidewalk of the street staring at her with the most adorably puzzled expression etched on his face. At three in the morning? Not likely—

"Astrid?"

-but apparently,

"Hiccup?"

Probable.

"Astrid, what on earth are you doing out here at three in the morning?"

She crosses the street with quick steps to meet him on the other sidewalk. The pavement feels cool under her toes and she sighs at the feeling.

"I could ask you the very same thing," she gives him a fleeting scowl, sleep demanding control suddenly. Oh sure, _now_ she's tired, right when she needs to be angry with him.

Hiccup reaches up to take her hands, "Astrid, about what I said…"

"What _you_ said? Do you have _any_ idea what you've done to me?" She raises her voice ever so slightly, staring at him wide-eyed.

His eyebrows raise slightly, "Done to _you_? Astrid! I haven't slept in—"

"_You_ haven't slept? _I_ haven't slept! Do you know what you've done to me?"

"You don't understand—"

"Hiccup! You idiot! You've changed everything!" She squeezes his hands, searching his eyes in the moonlight. He sighs, shoulders relaxing.

"Look, this isn't how I imagined this conversation going. I certainly didn't think it would involve coffee and insomnia and yellow-blinking street lights," Hiccup sighs and collects his thoughts before continuing, "Things sucked before, Astrid. I can't be just your friend anymore."

"And I apparently can't get any damn sleep until I tell you this so here we are," A somewhat sane smile graces Hiccup's features and Astrid melts all over again. "I love you. I really, honestly love you. More than you'll ever know."

She is beside herself. She is furious and frustrated and sleep-deprived and— she internally explodes with happiness, looking down at their intertwined hands with a smile.

"I love you too, you idiot," she whispers, eyes slowly rising to meet his again.

He hears her laugh softly to herself as he smiles down at her, practically falling asleep in his arms. In the moonlight, he notices, she looks just like angel… even with the dark circles under her eyes. His smile spreads astonishingly quickly to engulf his whole face as he releases her hands, snatching her up by her waist to spin her around.

"You do? You really do. Oh god, you do." He sets her down on her bare feet, giddy with excitement, body still pressed as close to hers as possible.

"Ugh, don't spin, please. I'm exhausted".

Her body feels three times as heavy and her eyes droop. At least he doesn't look much better either. His dark circles might be even darker than hers. She nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck and realizes there is a small problem.

They are sleep-deprived and standing on a sidewalk in their pajamas in the middle of Berk at three something in the morning and they are both clearly insane. But at least now they are together… and maybe everyone can finally get some well-deserved sleep.


End file.
